


Combat

by Galindrael



Series: A Very Dragon Age Christmas [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, DECFANFIC, Dragon Age: Inquisition spoiler, F/M, Holiday specials, Lyrium, Lyrium Withdrawal, day three, spoiler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2716397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galindrael/pseuds/Galindrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their way to Josephine's favorite holiday play, Cullen begins to feel the effects of withdraw.  Scáthach grounded him, but also reminded him of the substance he tried to forget.</p><p>For the #DecFanFic contest.</p><p>There are currently 22 parts to this series, the link, for some reason is broken- sorry for the issue, I'm trying to fix it (as of 1 February 2015)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Combat

“Please, Cullen,” Scáthach had begged. Josephine had invited her to Orlais to see their holiday play and she had talked him into seeing the damned play with her.  As much as going out in public and these _events_ annoyed him, he knew he couldn’t let her go alone. He would be a bad… _huh._ He’d be a bad….husband? What a strange thing, it was. Cullen looked to Scáthach who was looking out the carriage window; she agreed, after their ice-skating deal, that once this was all over, he’d marry her, in a nice Fereldan Chantry…assuming there were any left,  and they’d spend the rest of their days finally taking time to be a bit normal for once.

Cullen supposed this is why she wanted him to come with her, to give her some sense of normalcy. She was dressed in a lovely deep blue Wintersend gown she purchased earlier in the month. It was a soft fabric, he couldn’t name which, that boasted designs in silver that brought out her ash-blonde hair.  The deep navy blue of her dress brought out her eyes and the simple sapphire necklace he purchased for her, hung about her neck. His eyes traveled up her body, his gaze lingering at her neck before he noticed she purchased matching earrings. _Maker, I should have-_

“Commander?” Cullen’s head shot to Josephine.

“I’m sorry, yes?” Cullen shifted his body to face the Advisor that was seated across from him.

“I asked if you’ve seen this play before?” Josephine smiled, as to why he was distracted and he blushed a bit before he could manage to respond.

“No, I have not, my troops were talking of it earlier, though,” Cullen smiled tentatively.

His attention immediately shifted to Scáthach’s hand that had snaked it’s way around his arm.

“Oh, I hope they did not ruin it for you,” Josephine whined.

“Not much to ruin. I think the Commander will appreciate it nonetheless,” Blackwall offered, unsure at how to react to the Commander who was very upfront about his anger when he learned of his past, but it did not seem to faze him, as the Commander’s attention had not shifted from his lap.

Cullen, honestly, was  not invested in the conversation, but was trying his best, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Josephine did mention it was one of her favourites, yes?” He shot a quick look to Josephine.

“Oh, yes, all the right subtleties and themes with excellent character development,” she paused, “Oh, that’s terribly boring isn’t it?” Getting flustered she stopped.

“No, no. It’s a good one. One of my favourite stories when I was a lad,” Blackwall offered her.

“You’re anything but dull, Josephine,” Scáthach smiled wide and laughed as Josephine became more flustered at the attention.  Cullen looked to Scáthach once more and, again, had a hard time looking away.

Maker, how he ever hid his interest in her, he’ll never know. Because in this moment, he didn’t even realize he was in a carriage with two other people. He just wanted to run his hands along her arm and pull her into his lap. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste her on his lips. He wanted to feel the heat of her skin against his. He wanted to be the teenage boy he never got to be with her; he wanted to sneak off at every chance he got to be with her; he didn’t care if it was to just talk or if it was to make love with her all night…he just didn’t care so long as it was with her. Some days it scared him how important she had become to him. How his whole world would come crashing down if something ever-no. That would not happen. Could not happen. _But if it did? If she died? Worse, if she chose to leave you? What would the Commander of the Inquisition do without the Inquisitor?_. Cullen took a sharp breath. And adjusted himself slightly to try to breathe more, his whole body tensing. Despite his attempts to keep quiet when he inhaled, if one was listening, they would have heard his laboring breath.

“Can we stop for a moment, I need to stretch my legs,” Scáthach asked, without missing a beat.

“Yes, of course, we’re very early,” Josephine hit the roof twice. _She could die any day, you know._

“Aye, and the horses would be wanting a drink soon,” Blackwall offered. _Or find a better suitor, without problems such as yours._

Blackwall and Josephine got out first, neither noticing the Commander’s state. _The lyrium doesn’t have to be a problem…_

“Cullen, are you ok?” Scáthach felt his forehead and recoiled when her hand met sweat.

Cullen shook his head ‘No’ and braced himself, trying to get more air into his lungs. _Fuck, why now?_

Scáthach pulled out a cloth and wiped his head, then opened the carriage near her to let more cool air in. She settled herself on the floor of the carriage and, with a panicked look on her face, began to undo Cullen’s waistcoat. Once she managed the last button he took a deep breath, and she quickly went to the enchanted cooler and poured him a glass of water, offering it to him and reminding him to drink slowly.

He happily, and very gratefully, took her instructions as, without her, he’d be panicking right now as having one of these moments in such a small space was not ideal. _Too constricting. Too familiar.Too much Kinloch. Too much._ At Skyhold he could walk around the battlements a few times and be ok. He looked to her, with her brows pulled together and her worried face made him feel awful for putting her through this. She didn’t deserve this. Cullen shut his eyes tightly and tried slowing his labored breathing.

“Do you want me to do anything, Cullen?” She asked quietly.

“Help me outside,” Cullen shakily began to stand. Scáthach got up quickly and got out of the carriage to offer her hand to him to help him down the steps. Cullen saw that everyone was distracted by the horses, thank the Maker. He was already embarrassed that Scáthach had to help him, he didn’t want the others to even know about it.

He looked around the mostly-white field and saw a grey protrusion peeking out from the snow and he made his way to it. He didn’t care that it was wet and was soaking his pants through, he needed to be low to the ground and the cold of the melting ice helped him stay sharp. Scáthach placed a hand on his head and he pulled her to him. His head rested against her stomach and his arms wrapped around her legs. The pain started coming in the carriage but he couldn’t tell her about that, not now. So he held her close and with the one hand still in his hair the other began to rub between his shoulders.

The pain was everywhere and he was trying so hard to not cry. Reliving some of his stab wounds would be preferable to this.  This pain wasn’t even like any of the physical attacks he’s encountered; these made his throat tighten, closing in on him with every forced inhalation. His veins ached and itched and he had to sometimes grasp at other things to avoid scratching at his own skin to try to relive the pressure building up. These were the times he could do nothing but wait. 

Scáthach caught Josephine rounding the corner and she shook her head, begging her not to speak and with the sight of the Commander still buried in her dress, Josephine just nodded and stalled them a bit longer.

“Cullen, do you think you can manage the rest of the ride to Val Royeaux? We’re not far,” she tilted his head up.

“Yes, I think so," he had to fight to form the rest of the sentence, his tongue threatened to stick at its stillness, "The darkness of the theatre will help, I think,” Cullen stood up and ran his fingers through his hair.

He straightened his spine and took as deep of a breath as he could. Scáthach re-fastened his waist-coat, much looser than earlier, and she planted a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sorry this is happening now, I should’ve let you stay,” she looked down, the scars covering her face puckered as her brows furrowed.

“No, it’s fine, Scáthach,” he forced a smile, “the distraction should be welcoming”. _It won’t but that’s alright. I’ve fought worse battles._

The rest of the ride, Scáthach and Josephine spoke of other plays and joked about their most recent shopping visit to Orlais while Blackwall kept whittling the top he apparently had in his pocket. Cullen drowned out as much as he could, trying to forget the pain pushing from within. Over time the conversation became farther away as he gave in to the lull of Scáthach’s voice.

“Cullen, dear, we’re here,” Scáthach gently shook his arm. He looked to her and just nodded. As he was stretching Josephine opened the door on the opposite side of the carriage and he glimpsed what was outside.

The theatre was bustling with patrons and laughter outside. The lights were mage fire, enchanted to be different colours, strung up in well-placed lanterns. As a child, it used to be his favourite special thing they did to the cities in the holidays; how could he forget? He used to attend the ceremonies... He sat up straighter and re-did the buttons on his waist-coat to their proper tightness and he got out in his dress clothes and was surprised when a few people applauded him. He shot a look to the offenders, bewildered. A cough made him turn. Scáthach was waiting for him to offer his hand and he did, blushing that he had forgot to offer it in the confusion.

When she stepped out the crowd clapped more and she curtseyed and started to walk with Cullen to the theatre. A few steps later she paused.

“Oh, Maker, I’ve left my purse,” she began to turn back around before Cullen grabbed her arm lightly.

“Let me, I’ll be right back,” Cullen half-jogged to the carriage that, thankfully, was still parked.

Immediately he saw he purse on the seat and he reached for it quickly. Regretting it as soon as he heard glass hit inside. _Shit, her perfume._

Cullen, still kneeling into the carriage, placed the purse on its floor and reached into the bag, hoping he didn’t crack the bottle. He blindly felt for the bottle and pulled it out to inspect the glass and dropped it immediately. It wasn’t perfume. It was a vial of lyrium. _Fucking shit._ He looked at his gloved hand that had held the bottle seconds ago and noticed it was wet. He knew she had finished her training as a Templar, but he didn’t know she had brought a vial with her. He brought his fingers closer to his mouth, nearly succumbing. _Don’t._ He jerked his hand back and wiped it on his coat. The vial must have been enchanted as he never felt the substance even though he was nearly sitting on it. Fighting to pick up the vial again he reached into her bag and checked the perfume bottle; no cracks. He clasped her purse shut and forcibly shut the carriage door shut, enough for the driver to make a remark Cullen didn’t catch but he couldn’t turn around with that vial of lyrium still leaking its contents on the floor.

She was waiting for him in the exact spot he left her, oblivious that he just found her stash. _How could-no, she told me. I knew. I just didn’t expect…_ she saw him returning and she smiled widely at him, “Did you get lost, Commander?” she joked as she took her purse from him.

“I’m afraid I cracked your vial, my Lady,” his jaw clenched as she looked to her purse.

“Oh, my perfume, I forgot it-” Scáthach jerked back a bit when he cut her off.

“Not _that_ vial,” he was trying to stay calm. _She is a Templar. She takes lyrium_. He just really wish she didn’t. Realization dawned on her face; panicked, and embarrassed she looked at her feet before looking at him again.

“Cullen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to worry. I-” this time it was her that exhaled a ragged breath.

He was about to respond with something less than kind, but Josephine, with Blackwall in tow, bounded over.

“Come, you two, you can’t miss this holiday special, the cast is to die for, I hear,” she piped.

“Yes, I’m sure it will be delightful,” Scáthach offered, but shot an apologetic look to Cullen.

Remembering his manners, Cullen smiled and remarked how nice it was to be away from Skyhold. Scáthach squeezed his arm, thanking him for his kind action.  He didn’t want to ruin the night by being angry at something he should have realized. _My addiction shouldn’t be yours too._ He looked at her and had to resist the urge to beg her to stop. As they passed the threshold, Blackwall held the door open for Josephine and Scáthach.

“After you Commander,” he offered.

“Thank you, _Rainer_ ,” Cullen tersely replied. Blackwall’s face fell but there was nothing to do about it as the Commander was already inside the theatre next to the Inquisitor before he made it through the door.

Cullen barely spoke to anyone as they waited for the play to start. He normally didn’t socialize well but he was being cold and almost rude to some of the people who came up wanting to meet either him or Scáthach. He could feel Scáthach’s sadness at what transpired but he could not calm down, despite himself. Once they were seated and the play began, his demeanor changed.

The play was about a man committing a crime against Andraste out of passion for his elven lover and, when all hope was lost, Andraste herself came down to forgive. Of course, the elven woman converted in the end and all was right in the world, according to the Chantry. He found it childish but…  The themes of forgiveness and of love were not lost on him. It wasn’t her fault and it was unfair of him to fault her for following the same orders he followed before.  So he forgave and kissed her on the cheek as the curtain began to close; her cheeks even flushed at the kiss, which made him smile at the reversal of their roles. She was the blushing maiden, and not he.

It didn’t make it easier on him, but it did make him feel better about the situation. He was an ex-Templar. She was a current Templar. She didn’t take lyrium often and she never pressured him to take lyrium again, despite knowing that it would make his Templar abilities stronger in battle. She could protect them both if she had to and he was still a soldier. Not having his Templar abilities reminded him of that. He didn’t need them. He could, and would, protect her as a soldier; she could handle herself as a Templar.   

No, he could protect her as her _Commander._

**Author's Note:**

> Day Three! This one was hard for me, lots of annoying struggles on my end. It was "Holiday Specials" so I used the theatre instead of TV specials as I did not want to do a modern AU (just yet). Alas, I needed to post something before it turned midnight in my timezone, so voila!


End file.
